You've made it this far. (TreeBros)

Chapter 9: There's a Storm Starting. (Part 1)

Connor leans against his bunk, sitting in the darkness of his cabin. Smiling like some idiot, with a bottle of pure vodka pressed into his side— one of the soldiers had sneaked in the alcohol, and he 'confiscated' it. They were in Russia after all, it wouldn't have been so hard for the rebellious solider to get his hands on the substance, this being the country of alcohol. Connor was just too busy to ask where he had acquired it. To worried about what is happening to him.

Lost in his thoughts with a wicked smile plastered on his face, yet had hot salty tears running down his cheeks. Why the fuck should he care? Why is he so damaged about this boy?

And that bitter burning taste the alcohol leaves on his tongue is oh so familiar.

Licking his chapped lips, he stumbles to get up, finding his bed, but just ending up falling to the floor. He lets out a struggled laugh, that just dies down into a pathetic whine.

It's like his chest is contracting. He can't stand the world, and he can't even stand himself. Fuck Evan. Fuck everything. All he needs is this bottle.

But really what was all this about? He didn't do anything wrong. It's the weird fucking kid that kissed him. It's just a kiss.

Just a kiss.

Maybe he's hurting so much because it was more then just a kiss. There are things he'd rather not know about himself, yet it's all coming out now.

Everything is so fucking, disgusting. Ugly, and rude, and hurtful, and painful.

What is he doing? He shouldn't even have gotten to this level. Covering for the kid, bringing him gifts, taking him out of fucking camp for what?

He's a solider not a personal butler to these people. They weren't even supposed to like each other. Then he thinks about Evan's smile.

He takes another swing, half of the liquid spills to the floor, but he is too disorientated to realize. He just stares at one single spot. On the floor, shattered glass, clothes thrown about. He forgoten he had a tantrum when he started drinking.

And among the mess, lies one single red rose, surrounded by water, and what used to be a jar. It pissed him off that it was so beautiful, even with all the chaos around.

He snickered, and let out a loud cry.
"Fuck!"

He was laughing, but still crying. Laughing at his own misery? Crying at his sick twisted mind? He couldn't tell.

And all that played in his head, the memories of his past. "you made it this far." Repeated over and over just to torment him.

Jeremy's sweet smile, when he took Connor in after he was kicked out by his family, without hesitation, within the first hour of knowing him.

How only after a week of staying with him, he smiled and felt better about the world. But at night when he laid awake with his thoughts, Connor broke down, and did something he never thought he would.

Drink.

His family didn't want him, didn't love him, didn't care, didn't even come searching for him. And when Jeremy was out working, and Connor was rummaging through old CDs, he stumbled upon a bottle of wine.

And God did it take the edge off.

And when he wouldn't stop drinking. And became so addicted to the poison. Jeremy pulled him through. Made him pull the bottle away from his lips.

Well where the fuck is Jeremy now? In America. While Connor is spending Christmas, drinking shitty vodka, on the floor of his military bunker, alone and broken.
Over some fucking kid. Was he becoming a faggot?

And it's a stupid question. A stupid one because he knew, he knew. He wasn't becoming anything. He always was the way he was.

And now he can laugh. Because his favorite part of drinking is that it makes you numb.

And so when he does something stupid. Like always. He won't be able to feel it. Not quite yet. He just hopes Michael doesn't leave his post yet, doesn't notice Connor's absence.

Because at this moment Connor realized he isn't drinking because of Evan, he's drinking because he realized him and Evan aren't too different.
---

He sat around outside of the walls. Once again very much against the rules. He managed to unlock the gate even in his drunken state.

Leaned up against the brick, with the bottle almost empty laying in his hand.

He figured he would be more likely to get more booze outside the wall. It didn't make any sense but to him it was brilliant.

He wasn't really thinking correctly.

But all there was, well was woods, trees, and Forest. A whole lot of it.

It pissed him off.

So he went up to one of the trees, and punched it in its stupid face. If trees do have faces? Do they? Well he still punched it!

Which really just went down as him swinging for the bark, and hurting his hand.

It pissed him off more-

"Hugh"
He frowned. He didn't recall making that noises. Did the tree groan at him???

He looked to the side of him to see a strange old man throwing rocks over the wall. Grunting at every toss.

"Who the fuck are you?" He asked with a slur in his voice. He couldn't make out much of the mans features, it being rather dark out, but he didn't seem very well groomed.

The man turned to look at him, eyeing him curiously. Holding the rock in his hand.

"I want to get in" the man said softly, looking longing at the wall. He grips the rock tighter, almost looking upset.

Connor's eyes furrowed, "why? Why would you want that?"

The man stopped as if to think this through, like even he didn't know why he wanted in, but then just turned when he got frustrated and continued to throw rocks. 

And that's all Connor could really remembered last.
---

(To be continued)